“Feels like it, too,” Mick admitted seconds before the office phone rang. “We may have lift-off,” he said. Putting a finger to his lips, he pushed the ‘speaker’ button before answering. “Mick here.”
“Michael, dearest,” a woman’s voice cooed. “I understand you want us to meet.”
“I think you’re the one who wants a meeting, Celeste, dearest.”
“I do. You have something of mine that I’d like back. It’s almost seven-thirty. I’m sure you’ll need time to get it from wherever you hid it, so shall we meet in an hour?”
Mick glanced at Richard, who was shaking his head as he reached for a pencil and paper on the desk. ‘Ten. You can’t get out of here until nine,’ he wrote.
“No can do,” Mick told her. “I’m stuck here until at least nine.”
“Why? Oh, never mind. We’ll make it ten, but no later.”
“Where?”
“The boat house at Wash Park.”
“Which is where?”
She sighed. “I forgot. You don’t remember anything. Ask Richard, he knows. Come alone, Mick.”